Requiem of Gods
by Satsuriku No Tenshi
Summary: Death was for the old not the young, but sometimes age did not matter. Those children, who held the hand of the Death, were blessed, were damned. Nevertheless, they would walk their paths of blood. FemLelouch x Suzaku AU
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** First of all, I must apologize for taking such a long time. It's being almost a year since I uploaded the first chapter. I edited the story again and totally rewrote everything. Secondly, my update schedule will still be sporadic at best. But I will try to write long chapters to make up for it. Anyways, this story is AU (no mechas) and Lelouch is female. Not that I don't like slash but figured . . . well you will see why. Enough with my rant, onwards to the story.

**Title:** Requiem of Gods**  
Author:** Forsaken Moon**  
Chapters:** 1 of ?  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairings:** Suzaku/FemLelouch, and others  
**Warnings:** AU, violence, and the rest...  
**Summary:** Death was for the old not the young, but sometimes age did not matter. Those children, who held the hand of the Death, were blessed, were damned. Nevertheless, they would walk their paths of blood.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything...if only I did.

* * *

**Prologue**

Life, the creator of man, the destroyer of man, was an abstract yet magnificent concept. Defined by the state of existing, thinking, and moving, life was the prize given to everyone at birth. Like a never-ending spiral, men lived, loved, and died—gone in a blink of an eye. A dull, repetitive sequence that existed since the dawn of time. Yet mortals gladly threw themselves into the endless cycle, always greedy for more. Life had given them a taste of feelings, of passion, and they would crave it like a drug. It bound men to its unpredictability, granting gifts and taking them away just as quickly. It could be compared to a butterfly, whimsical and flittering in its erratic flight.

Many lived as if life was something tangible, something that could be conquered and enslaved. They filled their lives with pointless pursuits and called it living. They talk of life as if they could put a value to it, could buy and sell it as they pleased. Perhaps it was due to the brief mortality of man that they sought to capture it. An instinctual need for time to slow in order to savor what life had to offer.

Life was beyond innocence—it gradually stripped men of purity and left them open to its horrifying truths. Behind its facade of tranquility, life hid a brutality beyond men's wildest imagination. It was full of injustice and broken dreams—a harsh mistress that brought even the greatest mortals to their knees. Life might have being the creator but it was certainly not the nurturer. Power was milk on which mortals thrived. Life was not for the weak, it was a privilege for those who had the bravery to enter this gamble of existence.

Every mortal must rely on their own merits to survive in this game of living. If life gave one the gift of existence, then one must grab onto it with all one had. The strength of will, the capacity for power, and the inane potential were what every man had to rise above others. No one had ever conquered life, but each sought to leave his or her mark in the world. If one was forgotten, then one's existence was reduced to nothing. Such was the rule of life.

†††††††††††††

Grief.

The tears would not stop flowing. For what seemed like ages, she cried—for her dead mother, for her comatose brother, and for herself. The young girl cried until her tears turned red, weeping for all the things she had lost.

Her mother seemed so peaceful in her casket, belying the violent manner in which she died. She looked as if she was just sleeping—a slumber she would never awake from. Lilith thought of her brother, lying in a forced sleep as he slowly recovered from his wounds. It broke her heart to see Rolo's frail body covered with bandages, his life dependent on a string of magical healers. She longed for yet feared the moment he would wake. She dreaded that reality would take his smile, or memories would bring tears to his eyes. Silently, she promised Rolo that she would always protect him, shield him from the harshness of the world.

It was raining on the day of her mother's funeral. The sky was grey and rain poured without relenting. In the distance, lighting laced the dark clouds and thunder roared with fury. As the men came to take her mother to her final resting place, Lilith bent down and kissed her mother goodnight for the last time. She followed the men as they hoisted the coffin towards the open grave. There were no tears as she listened to the vicar reading the rites. No one else came to pay their respects. No one else cared. She was alone—just her and the never-ending rain.

Fury.

She could feel it now, as the raindrops stripped down her face. A cold, deceptive rage burned inside her, waiting to be unleashed upon her foes. She was furious—angry at herself, her family, and _him_. He was the cause of everything—all her grief, pain, and anguish. Sitting on that throne of his, he had watched her with a smirk. His words were like swords, cutting away all her illusions. Her world was a lie, her existence a mirage. She stood trembling as her world fall apart around her, shattering into a million pieces.

In that moment, she learned that she was alone in the world. She couldn't rely on anyone, not even blood. To her relatives, she was nothing, useless in their bid for power. They were like hyenas, waiting for the chance to tear each other apart. Lilith despised them—their manipulations and honeyed lies. They were poisonous not only to others but also to themselves. Even with the same blood in their veins, they fought viciously—even more so because of it. They were nothing but parasites in the guise of men—always hungry, always chasing after the promise of power.

Her helplessness angered her—the fact that she could do nothing as he condemned her brother and her mother to death. Their lives meant nothing to him. He used them until their usefulness ran out and threw them away without a second thought. She was powerless to do anything for anyone, including herself. In the end, she could do nothing but bow down to the unforgiving world. She might have lost the battle, but she hadn't lost the war. If they thought she was finished, then they were dead wrong. Now standing underneath the rain, she stared ahead with fury swirling in her veins, venomous thoughts spiraling in her mind.

Hate.

The anger eventually turned into something darker. What danced inside her heart were flames of hatred. It devoured her, searing through her being. It became her fuel, her motivation. She would exist solely for Rolo but she would forget nor forgive. Not her mother's murder, not her brother's pain, not her own anguish. She would not rest until she delivered justice to every dictated crime.

She watched the workers as they lowered her mother into the ground. She stood unmoving as each shovel of dirt slowly filled up the grave. Unblinking, she stared at the newly erected tombstone. Her eyes stung from the rain and phantom tears. It was done. The grave closed with a sense of finality. She would never see her mother's smile again, nor feel her warm embrace. She was truly alone in the world. With her mother, the young girl buried her childhood.

She laid a single white lily on the grave, silently sending a prayer for her mother's soul. The rain soaked through her clothing, chilling her. She barely noticed, for she had other things on her mind. Standing before her mother's grave, she pledged a vow of vengeance. She would destroy those who murdered her mother, who hurt her brother, who tore apart her world. It might take a lifetime, but one day she would return their gift of pestilence.

†††††††††††††

Like all invaders, the conqueror was hated and feared. No nation would bow down without a word of protest when it was stripped of its freedom, rights, and even its name. No, a proud country like Japan would fight its oppressor with all its might. The Japanese population was not going to forgive and forget a war that ravaged their land and nation, leaving them scarred and broken. Indeed, the Holy Empire of Britannia was immensely hated by the Japanese people.

Despite the passing of years, the flames of rebellion did not weaken. If anything, the flames only grew stronger. Yet the Britannia hold on the nation remained as strong as ever. While the people harbored the shame and hate, they had not forgotten the devastating defeat or the foe that brought it about.

CRIMSON.

A name that still installed fear in the hearts of Japaneses. The mere memory of that nightmare was able to keep the rebel factions passive. No one wanted a repeat of shear destruction unleashed by the Project CRIMSON.

In the deciding battle for the mainland, Britannian forces introduced a newly formed regiment they named CRIMSON. It was an experimental regiment composed solely of Casters—a group of humans who could manipulate nature to their will. Few humans had the power and fewer lived long enough to master it. As was with human nature, Casters were often prosecuted if not killed on sight. With promises of protection and equality, Britannia coaxed its Casters out of hiding, turning the war for a nation to a war of survival.

Their abilities exceeded expectations, the Japanese force fell one after another before the might of the Project CRIMSON. In less than a month, Japan became a territory of the Empire. Area Eleven—the designation given to the defeated Japan, the once proud nation was reduced to a mere number. The Japanese people, renamed as 'Elevens', were forced to subjugate to Britannian rule.

Japan was not the first nation Britannia subjugated to its will or the last to be sacrificed on the altar of Britannian greed. For the last decades, Britannia had being fighting and pushing its border for as far as it could go. Like an insatiable gluttony, the self declared Holy Empire aimed to swallow every inch of land it came across. Only interested in preserving their own interests, the nations of the world were hesitant to help each other. By the time they did, the Holy Empire of Britannia had already established itself as the world's dominant military superpower. No country in existence could match the monstrous empire. Only the alliance between the two other empire giants, China and European Universe, stopped the rapid expansion of Britannia.

A saying that the Britannians failed to take to heart was 'nothing lasts forever'. Even as the Empire prospered, there were shadows waiting and biting their time. Emperors and empresses came and gone, unaware of the threat that was growing in their very core. They would never have thought that they gave birth to their own destruction.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** The second chapter is finally here. I struggled a lot with this chapter. I just couldn't put what I pictured into words, resulting in numerous rewrite. Enjoy the chapter and don't forget to leave a review.

**Title:** Requiem of Gods**  
Author:** Forsaken Moon**  
Chapters:** 2 of ?  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairings:** Suzaku/FemLelouch, and others  
**Warnings:** AU, violence, and the rest...  
**Summary:** Death was for the old not the young, but sometimes age did not matter. Those children, who held the hand of the Death, were blessed, were damned. Nevertheless, they would walk their paths of blood.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything...if only I did.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The first layer of lies, the first mask, was called Lelouch Lamperouge.

A mask molded by need and society.

Twirling the black knight in his hand before casually setting it down onto the chess board, Lelouch smiled pleasantly at the noble that sat across from him. "Checkmate."

One of the many like-minded sheep that were herded by the Emperor, the differences between Baron McGreal and his peers were few and negligible. Dressed in gaudy but expensive clothing, wearing a permenant sneer on his face, he had being the picture of superiority complex. But his arrogance didn't last long as Lelouch calmly, politely, and completely crushed his false expectation of supremacy.

There was nothing like watching the pompous sneer froze on their pudgy faces and morphed into gaping expressions of disbelief. Lelouch prided himself in being able to go against the overwhelming odds and come out as the victor. As he toyed with his foes, he slowly led them into the web of traps he had laid for them. Not that he took much enjoyment in the game, after years of being able to complete dominate his games, he longed for some challenge from his opponents. Nevertheless, he revelled in humbling those aristocrats, giving them a taste of hopeless defeat.

Baron McGreal did not disappoint. Gone was the arrogance displayed at the start of the game, the baron openly gawked at the checkered board. His face was now an exaggerated picture of shock. His cigarette had fallen to the ground as he sat there in stunned silence.

In mere minutes, Lelouch had stole the victory from the noble's grasp even when the black had being on the verge of defeat. The turnabout should not have being possible . . . if it was anyone other than the oldest Lamperouge.

Walking out of the establishment a few hundred pounds richer than he entered it, Lelouch met up with his friend and partner-in-crime, Rivalz Cardemonde. With pale green eyes glinting with playfulness, and matching the wild hair that spiked out at odd ends, Rivalz stood at about Lelouch's height, only with lankier frame and clumsier movements. Together, they made a mismatched pair as they walked towards their horses.

Gambling for money was originally Rivalz's idea. It was a quick to get rich scheme that he roped Lelouch into. The blue-haired teen was the one who set up the matches and provided the transportation. Lelouch went along with it once he discovered that matches with the nobility were not only monetarily rewarding but also satisfying on a personal level. It had worked out exceptionally well and thus began their monthly visits to the casinos. The money was split between Lelouch—who got the bulk of the money—and Rivalz—who gained a quarter of the profit. It was a win-win situation.

"That was fast. Which noble did you beat this time?" Rivalz chattered as he climbed up onto the saddle of a demure gray mare.

Exhaling a quiet laugh, Lelouch gracefully swung himself up onto his borrowed black mare. "Does it matter? They are all the same—can't play a decent game of chess."

"True, but they do pay well to save face."

"Isn't that why we are here?"

"Mah, I'm just saying . . ." Then Rivalz jolted in his seat. "Crap! I forgot Shirley is coming home early today."

"What?" The raven-haired youth levelled a potent glare at his friend. "How could you forget?"

"I just did, okay?" was the defensive reply.

Sighing, Lelouch grabbed his reins, "If she finds us . . ."

The two shared a look and both shuddered. An angry Shirley was a frightening sight indeed. Without another word, they set their horses into a run, taking of as if the demons were on their heels.

†††††††††††††

The second mask was known as Lilith Lamperouge.

A mask made to hide the darkness that dwelled in the depth of the heart.

"Where do you think you are going?"

The shrill shout make Lilith cringe, sending a chill down her spine. Damn. So much for sneaking back unnoticed. Sighing, she straightened from her crouched position beside Rivalz. Pulling on her best smile, she turned to face the one she least wanted to see at the moment.

"Hello, Shirley."

Orange hair pulled into a high ponytail and jade eyes flashing, Shirley Fenette brought to mind a fire sprite. Her face was red with anger but her beauty was still evident. Clad in a white summer dress that highlighted her curves, it was easy to see why she was highly sought after by the boys in their town. But at the moment, she was scarier than a provoked lioness.

Beside Lilith, Rivalz looked he wished to be anywhere but where he was. The blue-haired boy trembled as Shirley advanced on him. "H-hello."

"Don't hello me." Shirley snapped. "You took Lilith gambling, didn't you? How could you take her to those scandalous places? Look at those disrespectful clothing! She looks like a boy!" She emphasized each word with a poke to Rivalz's shoulder.

"She's not just a boy. She's Lelouch Lamperouge." Rivalz countered quickly only to flinch when his words registered in his brain. The boy never had a good guard on his mouth. He just said whatever came to mind.

"Indeed?" If possible, Shirley looked more enraged than before. She took another step closer to Rivalz. "What will stop me from making you clean all the washrooms in the house?"

Poor guy sure knew how to dig his own grave. "But . . . but . . . Lilith was so good at chess! It would be a waste of her talents to not do it!" Rivalz waved his hands frantically before him as he tried to keep the angry girl away from him. His words did not placate the fiery haired girl at least as she cracked her knuckles menacingly. Desperately, green eyes sought out Lilith's amethyst ones, silently asking for help.

Lilith, also known as Lelouch, couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's desperate expression. They were always arguing about this topic even though neither had the intention of listening to the other. "Relax, Shirley. Rivalz and I know what we are doing. We have being doing this for years and we never got into trouble. The clothing was just a necessity."

"That's right! There's no harm done." Rivalz chirped in, earning himself a whack in the head. He quickly shut his mouth and nursed his sore head.

Shirley glowered at both Rivalz and Lilith. "Arrg! What can I do with you guys? Incorrigible, both of you!"

"Do nothing?" Lilith suggested helpfully.

Shirley puffed with anger. With a few strides, she was in front of Lilith. "Come with me. You need to change out of those awful garments immediately," she ordered, grabbing Lilith's arm. "Rolo is waiting for you in the living room. You don't want him to see you looking like this do you?"

Eager to see her brother, Lilith let the orange-haired girl drag her away from Rivalz. She couldn't bear to keep Rolo waiting.

"Rolo can't see either way." Rivalz mumbled, only to be pinned by a murderous glare from Shirley. Not learning his lesson, he opened his mouth to protest.

"Go clean the washrooms. I want the floor to sparkle. If I see a single grain of dust, you will redo everything." With a toss of fiery tresses, she led Lilith into the house, followed by Rivalz's wails of protests.

"Was that really necessary?" Lilith asked after she was forced to seat in front of Shirley's dresser. Behind her, Shirley was trying to free her hair from the pin secured hat.

Shirley huffed. "Boys never learn until you hammer the facts into their heads."

Lilith giggled then grimaced when her friend pulled her hair too hard. "When did you become so wise about boys?"

"Hands on experience," Shirley sighed. "You guys are going to give me premature white hair."

"Rivalz maybe. In my defense, I am a girl."

A titanium eyebrow arched. "So you do know you are a girl. I am starting to believe otherwise."

Lilith stared at her reflection as her hair tumbled down to her back once they were freed from the pins. Truthfully, gambling was a necessity. It was, after all, profitable and effortless on her part to win. Opportunities for a female to work were next to none and she especially needed the money. Her brother's medical fees were not cheap and she also had to sustain anything else they needed. She could only rely on other for so much. All in all, she must make ends meet by herself.

"Sometimes, I wish I was born male."

Shirley paused before setting the raised comb on the dresser. She put her hands on Lilith's shoulder. "Look at you. You are created by the gods to be beautiful. How can something so marvelous be wasted as a dirty and bad mannered male? Look at your reflection and tell me if there's any chance of you being male."

A girl with porcelain skin kissed by roses stared back at Lilith. Her features were soft and delicate with lush lips and arched eyebrows. Ebony hair brought out the unique violet shade of her eyes. Lilith averted her eyes, unwilling to stare at her reflection. It reminded her too much of her loss.

"Everyone seemed to buy into my disguise," she mumbled at last.

"Hmph, that's because they are men. We, women, are the more gifted gender."

Shirley's eyes softened and she squeezed Lilith's shoulder comfortingly. "We are here for you if you ever need something." Then her expression turned commanding. In her hands was a violet kimono. "Put this on. And get rid of those unsightly clothing. Dinner is in fifteen minutes."

"Hai, hai, Madame Fenette," Lilith laughed, moving to comply the orders.

Dinner was a boisterous event. Usually, all the members of the house gathered around and shared interesting stories of their day. They laughed and talked until the food turned cold and their bellies were full.

Today was no different. Lilith could only laugh as Rivalz attacked his food like a ravenous wolf. Once again, Shirley shrieked at the mess Rivalz made. Privately, Lilith thought they enjoyed going at each other like reluctant siblings.

"Don't you have any table manners?" Shirley groaned as she took off her apron and took a seat beside Lilith. It was her turn to cook today and she outdid herself as usual.

Rivalz only replied by stuffing more rice into his mouth. Shirley looked like she was going to hit the blue-haired boy on the head again but restrained herself.

Smiling at their antics, Lilith turned to the quiet figure sitting beside her. "Rolo, do you want to more tea?"

"No, I am fine," her brother said, smiling brightly at her. As Lilith looked at the younger boy, she couldn't help smiling back. It was a special smile that she especially reserved for the boy. Habitually, she reached up to ruffle the short cinnamon locks before her hand was grasped by her brother's. Humming contently, Rolo gave her hand a slight squeeze before releasing it as if her touch gave his strength and protection.

He was her brother, her most important person in the world. Delicately build with pale skin and rosy cheeks, he was resembled an inquisitive cherub. His set own violet orbs were full of life yet unfocused. From the moment of his birth, he was cursed to live without the presence of light. He was fragile, more than he liked to admit. And she would always watch other him. She wouldn't let anyone her him again. With their mother dead and their father as good as death, she was the only one who could protect him.

"Where is Mr. Fenette?" Lilith mused aloud.

"In his office. He said he will eat later," Shirley answered before picking up her chopsticks. Joseph Fenette was Shirley's father and the town's mayor. He was also Rolo and Lilith's guardian and Rivalz's uncle. He was a kind and hardworking man that was well liked by the locals despite being a Britannian. Lilith was very grateful to him for her and Rolo in. Without him, they might have being long dead.

"Is something bothering him? It's rare for him to miss dinner," Rolo asked from Rivalz's right, looking decidedly more elegant than the boy beside him.

"Some issue with the city or what not. He seemed to be troubled by whatever it is." Shirley sighed, stabbing her food with her chopsticks.

"The city? What would the city want with this remote village?" Lilith frowned. It was never a good thing when the city took an interest in something. The viceroy was crazy and his advisors were either money hungry or power hungry.

Shirley shrugged. "I have no idea. Probably more taxes or such."

"They always wanted more taxes." Rivalz added his two cents through a mouthful of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Shirley chided and the others laughed.

"You sound like a mother." Rivalz complained, causing his cousin to blush.

"Do not."

"Maybe you should hurry up and find a groom so you can have someone else to nag after."

Shirley turned even redder and sputtered. "You . . ."

"Right, Shirley and her groom kissing . . ." Rivalz continued in a sing-song tone.

This time it was Lilith who hit Rivalz in the head. "Quit it. Don't corrupt my brother."

Rivalz pouted. "Why me?"

Everyone else busted out laughing.

†††††††††††††

The second mask did not only belong to Lilith.

Beneath a seemingly flawless facade, Rolo Lamperouge was not as innocent as he led Lilith to believe.

He had, after all, survived the war that devastated the country—a war that crippled Japan and left the people with unspeakable memories. No, he was not a naive child but a survivor through and through.

His lack of sight was both a blessing and a curse. During a war, any weakness was a ticket to death. Without his sister, he would have perished a long time ago. At the same time, his blindness shielded him from the gruesome sights of the battle field—a battle was too mild of a word, it was pure, heartless slaughter. He could still remember the sound of battle cries mixed with screams of agony. Cradled in his sister's embrace, he could hear the distant canons going off like fireworks. In the never-ending darkness, those sounds amplified until they vibrated relentlessly in his skull. He could only imagine how much worse it was for his sister to see the bodies.

The war had changed him, showed him that the world was not as beautiful as he thought. There was so much darkness—perhaps the occasional rays of light shone even brighter because of it. No, the change had started before the war—at the time of his mother's death. His memory of that period was hazy but he remembered the pain. He remembered his mother's blood staining his clothing. He had seen death.

The child that was him had being killed by the selfish actions of others.

In the years that followed, he learned to wear a mask. He hid himself beneath a mask of innocence. He wore it for his sister who wanted for him to hold onto his purity. She did her best to conceal the reality of war. Many times, she lied to keep him from knowing the terrible atrocities that resulted from war. She did a good job too—gave up so much. In turn, such little sacrifice from Rolo was nothing.

They were truly siblings, two of a kind.

Her sister had lied out of love and so would he. For the sake of his sister, he weaved a web of lies. There was no doubt that they were related—master liars, both of them. Still, lies were not flawless. Despite his best efforts, there were cracks in the mask—unfixable imperfections for he could no longer separate himself from the mask.

Lilith was a constant in his life. They were close as children and inseparable after the war. They looked out for each other and bonded closer than ever—both experienced loss and horrors of war. He found himself to be possessive of his sister. It was selfish but he couldn't help it.

He wanted to be the center of her life. He wanted to be important. So he acted—pretending to be dependent on Lilith. He played the part of a weak brother well, dependent and helpless. His actions were selfish, wanting to keep his sister all to himself. He was spoiled too and Lilith indulged him. He wasn't above exploiting his sister's love for him. Occasionally, his body would fall sick to keep his sister away from people. He liked monopolizing his sister.

Listening to Lilith now, laughing and joking with Rivalz and Shirley, he had to suppress a burst of jealousy. Even though they were all close friends, he still hated to share.

He should be grateful, he suppose. Mr. Fenette showed nothing but kindness towards the two orphaned siblings. It was pure luck that they had being found by the Britannia after the war. Mr. Fenette had being newly assigned to his post and was traveling to the town. He had found the siblings collapsed on the road from hunger and took them under his wing. From then on, the siblings had stayed with the Fenettes.

Rolo knew that Lilith was trying her best to give him everything he wanted. They had left their past behind them started anew. Their old name was forgotten and they took their mother's maiden name, Lamperouge. It was the last link to their old lives. Occasionally, he would think of the past and feel a pang of melancholy.

He was not unaware of the existence of Lelouch Lamperouge. He kept it quiet as he understood their need for income. Besides, he trusted his sister's judgment. He was, after all, the one that put the idea into Rivalz's head. No one said he couldn't do some subtle manipulation.

Rolo suppressed a sigh as he listened to Shirley and Rivalz engage in heated arguments about random things. He wished that he could alleviate some of the burden that his sister carried. She had always being the strong one, the one who made the decisions. She had being to one to pull them through their mother's death, and then the war. With his handicap, Rolo could provide nothing more than emotional support.

"Are you not going to stop them?" Rolo tilting his head towards the general direction of his sister.

"Stop them? No way, I am not a masochist. Let them go at it. They will stop eventually if I leave them alone." Lilith's voice was full of exaggerated disbelief.

Rolo giggled. "That's true. They are close aren't they?"

"As close as a cat and a dog can get."

Eventually, Shirley decided it was time to take the food to her father and left the table to be cleaned by Rivalz. She seemed to enjoy picking on her cousin. With great reluctance, Rivalz did as he was told while the Lamperouges enjoyed their tea. When the candles burned low, the teenagers retired to their rooms for the night.

After a quick bath, Rolo toweled his hair dry as he listened to the sound of Lilith moving about in the room. He felt his way to the bedside table and fished out his medicine from the top drawer. Popping the cap open, he dumped out three pills and tossed them into his mouth. A warm cup was pressed into his hand and he quickly forced the pills down with water.

"Gah, that tasted nasty," he sighed as he put the medicine away. Blindness was not his only flaw. His body was weak to begin with and the incident six years ago followed by the war had worsened his condition. Without the daily intake of medicine, his heart would fail him. There was no alternative other than the constant purchase of expensive heart medicine.

He felt Lilith's fingers flicking his forehead. "Then stop holding the pills in your mouth. The faster you swallow them, the less likely the taste will stay in your mouth."

"Whatever you say." Rolo took off his shoes and sat on the bed. Lilith sat down beside him, some of her wet hair tickling his skin.

"You didn't dry your hair properly," he said accusingly, reaching up to pluck the towel from his sister's shoulder. Gathering the silky tresses in his hands, he began to pat them dry.

"Let me do it." Lilith reached back for the tower but Rolo batted her hand away.

"Just sit still and relax."

A soft sigh emerged from Lilith as she surrendered her hair to Rolo. The younger Lamperouge grinned to himself as he massaged his sister's scalp, earning a moan of approval. Silence descended as he carefully dried Lilith's waist length hair, sorting out a few knots here and here. It was a comfortable silence as they basked in each other's presence.

"What are you thinking about?" Rolo asked when Lilith sighed tiredly.

There was a pause before the word came out in a soft whisper. "Britannia."

Rolo blinked. It was not the answer he was expecting. ". . . Do you miss it?"

"No."

Another blink. He waited patiently for Lilith to elaborate and she did so after a few moments of silence.

Rolo felt the air move, indicating that Lilith had sit up. "You know, I always thought that Britannia was like a shadow."

"Eh?" He turned his face towards his sister. He didn't understand the metaphor.

After another period of silence, Lilith spoke again. "Shadows casted darkness on the things around them but it can be easily chased away by light. Britannia only exist because there was no light strong enough to destroy it."

Rolo took a moment to think over his sister's words. "I see. The Empire is built on sand and water, isn't it?"

"Yes. Britannian may have the control of the whole world but the scale can be easily tipped against them." There was something in Lilith's tone that set him on the edge.

They became silent after that. Both absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Nee-san?"

"Yes?"

"You are not going to leave are you?" Rolo asked hesitantly. He always had a feeling that Lilith was looking for something bigger. There was restlessness inside her. If she had wings, she would fly away and disappear from his grasp.

"Why would you say that?" Worry laced Lilith's words.

Rolo struggled to put words to his hunch. "Just . . . it feels like you want to."

Gentle hands took hold of his shoulders and pulled him into a warm embrace. "Silly, I would never leave you." Slender fingers caressed his locks and he relaxed into the hug. "You are more precious than anything. I promised to stay by your side, didn't I?"

"Promise me again. Pinky swear," he ordered, holding up his hand.

He could almost feel Lilith smiling as she reached to grasp his hand. "I promise to make a peaceful world where we can always stay together."

Once Lilith laced her pinky with his, he began to chant. "Pinky promise pledge: If you're lying, I'll make you drink a thousand needles. Pinky promised!"

With the promise renewed, Rolo's worry dissolved. His sister never lied to him. If she made a promise, she would keep it. He docilely let Lilith lay him down and pulled the blanket over him.

"Just go to sleep. Don't worry so much, you will be winkles." Lilith patted his hand after she folded it on top of the blanket.

"Hai, night nee-san." He yawned, suddenly sleepy. Apparently, he was more tired than he thought.

"Goodnight, Rolo." The soft words lured him into the world of dreams.

He missed Lilith's laugh as she lied on the bed staring at his relaxed features. He was blissfully unaware of his sister's inner turmoil. Some part of her did want to leave. That part of her called for vengeance. But she locked that impulse away.

She told herself that Rolo needed her here and nothing mattered more than his wishes. As long as he was by her side, she would forget about the thoughts of revenge. Lying there, listening to Rolo's calm breathing for enough. She had no need for anything else.

Gently, she leaned down to press a kiss on Rolo's forehead. "I will always here for you, little brother."

Little did she know that circumstances would soon tear them apart. With that came the existence of her third mask. Her mask of truth built on lies. It would be her master piece and her bane.

Unaware of what the future held for them, the siblings feel into a deep slumber, soft smiles gracing their lips.


End file.
